


Not What You'd Think

by Curlsandcollege



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Courtship, Engagement, Established Relationship, F/M, Mourning, Post-Canon, Society nonsense, Wedding Planning, attempts at humor, delayed mourning, post azure moon, sex and politics, that old faerghus repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curlsandcollege/pseuds/Curlsandcollege
Summary: Felix and Annette courted for a suspiciously short time before they wed. It's not for the reason you’d think.Inheriting a title and marrying into the second most powerful family in Faerghus comes with a lot of pomp and circumstance. Felix hates pomp and circumstance.He just wants to be married. He wants Annette with him all the time. He wants to stop being alone in an empty castle with a title he never really wanted.  He won’t acknowledge the last point.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 23
Kudos: 117
Collections: That Old Faerghus Repression





	Not What You'd Think

If you asked them, not that anyone did, Annette and Felix were fully engaged twenty four hours after the fall of Enbarr.  
  
Faerghus traditionally didn’t do fancy proposals. Rings were considered by some to be a newfangled tradition imported from Leicester to sell jewelry. Marriages were decided in practical conversation. No room for ceremony, if you discussed it, it was true.  
  
Sure, there were obstacles and paperwork and formality tied up in being nobility- but the essential core of _intent of marriage_ , that was simple. 

  
They’d tabled their discussion until the war was won. Felix was injured protecting Dimitri from his uncle in Derdiru. Annette sobbed later in his tent, chiding him for his carelessness. Insisting that she couldn’t go on living without him when they hadn’t even started their life together. 

  
Something disgusting churned in Felix’s stomach that wasn’t caused by the embarrassing amount of healing magic it had taken to get him up and walking again. A thought, fleeting but heavy, told him that it would be easier for Annette to mourn a _companion_ than a fiance. That she wouldn’t have to mourn their future life together that way if he fell in the next battle.  
  
“We haven’t made plans” was apparently _not_ the right way to convey how he just wanted to protect her when she had lost so much already. Felix could never say something correctly if he could instead say it efficiently.  
  
Annette cried, and yelled, and cried some more while Felix stuck his foot further into his mouth while desperately trying to tell her that he did in fact still like her and take their companionship seriously.  
  
The night ended with both of them holding hands while they laid not looking at the other but in agreement that they’d _talk_ seriously about their future after the war was won. They wanted to be together, but just them and what they had right now. The rest would be complex. Titles. Courtship. Ritual. It could wait. 

* * *

Their official courtship period started as they returned to Fhirdiad, drunk on victory and weeks of poorly planned celebration alternating with marches across the country.  
  
It was an awkward start. Tradition said Felix was required to ask for permission, something he desperately did not want to do. Permission, to court the woman he already considered himself engaged to. An engagement that Faerghus custom would call _good enough_ if he weren’t himself. The delay frustrated him, why this charade? Why couldn’t they just formally get engaged _now_? Glenn and Ingrid were betrothed from infancy. Why this intermediate step for him? 

Politics.  
  
They couldn’t just skip to an engagement because they were arranging the match themselves- it’s not like Felix had a parent to arrange a marriage. Propriety necessitated that if a couple knew each other and intended on having a love match made they first needed to court.  
  
Courting was necessary so other people were free to express their _opinion_ on the match before a formal engagement. Because Fraldarius was apparently so powerful that everyone else got to pretend to have a say in who ruled it.  
  
Ridiculous.  
  
Felix wasn’t even officially a Duke yet, just a Duke-apparent. He’d need approval for that too. A succession hearing so everyone in Faerghus could make their _opinion_ on taking his dead father’s place known. He never cared for the opinions of others before this. Now that it was keeping Annette away from him? Far worse. 

Annette walked alongside him on the streets of Fhirdiad, voicing her looping thought process on their courtship. She didn’t seem to chafe at the arbitrary obstacles, shutting down every tipsy half-kidding suggestion that they could just elope. No. Annette insisted that they do things correctly and by the book. She was probably right, but it didn’t make it less frustrating.  
  
“Well my uncle is still the leader of house Dominic, but that would look bad to court since he’s still in that awkward, _didn’t stay loyal to the kingdom and people are angry_ spot, so maybe don’t ask him? But my father-” Felix cut her off before she got on that idea again. 

“I’m not asking your father if I can court you Annette. I already told you that.” Felix knew that Annette had forgiven her father to some extent but he couldn’t stand watching them dance carefully around one another. He wasn’t sure if he had a right to have an opinion on the matter, so he kept his opinions quiet. 

  
The truth was, Felix didn’t want to forgive Gilbert for what he had done to Annette. And if Annette forgave Gilbert, Felix would have to come around eventually. Another compromise in what was looking to be a lifetime of them. 

“So who are you going to ask Felix? I know you don’t loooove this stuff, but you’re going to have to ask someone or we’ll never start courting and then we’ll never get engaged and then we’ll never get married and you’ll be alone forever and I can’t have that.” Her face was so cute like this, all concerned and wide eyed. Felix was learning to love the moments right before she flew off the handle. Self preservation, probably. 

Felix shoved his hands further into his pockets and scoffed, “You mean **you** will be alone forever?” This was silly. He would have married her right in the middle of their celebration back in Enbarr, there was no need for all of this delay. 

Annette’s eyes widened, and she stopped in her tracks. Her voice got smaller, “No. Felix I still have my... I have my family. I don’t want **you** to be alone anymore.” 

Was Felix alone? There were still some Fraldariuses left. True, he was an orphan now. His uncle was a mess- his cousins far too young. He wasn’t close to any of them anyway. So, in a way, Annette wasn’t wrong.  
  
The thing was, Felix hadn’t even had time to process being alone. The war started and he had a father. Sure, his relationship was strained and toxic but Rodrigue was strong. He’d always avoided his father at home but Rodrigue _was_ Fraldarius in a way- seeing him was inevitable. He seemed to be around every corner.  
  
Felix hadn’t considered what home would be like when his father was gone. It still didn’t feel totally real. He’d been in Fhirdiad for the past few days helping to tie up loose ends, delaying the inevitable trip back to Fraldarius territory. His brain was still charting out a schedule that revolved around his father's usual daily habits for optimal avoidance. Silly, no reason to do that anymore. 

For all his baggage about mourning and death glorification, Felix had hardly had a second to consider his death at all. A week or so where he avoided everyone and let Annette or occasionally Sylvain or Ingrid bring him food. Another where he resumed his daily activities but blew up at everything and everyone. A third where he thought he was fine but he refused to get patched up by anyone because even the tiniest bit of healing magic made tears well up in his eyes and he couldn’t let himself admit why.  
  
Of all of the feelings he’d felt when he thought about his father, he hadn’t yet felt _alone_ . Too busy winning a giant war and everything.  
  
“I want you with me, but I don’t have a problem being alone Annette.” He said, turning his face back to the street. The sweet shop she liked was somewhere around here, they’d need to cross the street soon.  
  
Annette gave him one of those long looks that always made him feel like she saw past the layers of sarcasm and spite and said simply, “Just because you aren’t complaining doesn’t mean nothing is wrong.” 

The words echoed through his head. Nothing is _wrong_ ? His father is dead and he has to _inherit_ and the one thing, one person, he actually wants in this world is wrapped up in ten layers of society nonsense when they could just get married now if it weren’t for damn propriety.  
  
Alone. Funny. He’d craved solitude for the better part of his adulthood. Annette was the exception to that rule, he wanted her around all the time. The idea of being separated, even for the six months or so that a courtship and engagement would require, was painful. But he wasn’t lonely- what an absurd thought.  
  
His relationship with his father was complicated, and now it was over. There was nothing to do but build anew. Which is what he was trying to do if there weren’t so many customs in the way. 

Felix huffed, “Annette I’ve always worked best alone. I’ll be fine.” Feeling her recoil from his bluntness he reached out for her hand, “I’m going to ask your mother for permission to court you. She’s the only one whose opinion matters in my book.” 

Annette brightened, realization dawning over her face. She squeezed his hand, bouncing on her toes.  
  
“That’s not very traditional” she beamed, pleased with his solution. 

“You’ve been in a war council with me, I can only handle so much tradition before I go for the efficient solution.” 

  
Annette looked over her shoulder, “Fine, if we’re not being very traditional today then here,” she raised up on her toes and planted a kiss on his lips. 

Absolutely improper. Perfect.  
  
Why would he worry about being alone? He had Annette and she would always be enough. 

* * *

Felix would, if required, do just about anything for his childhood friends. At present Ingrid and Sylvain were the closest thing to family he had. Right down to annoying the living daylights out of him. Dimitri too, in a way, though he was constantly swept away to councils and events and all of the minutiae of being king.  
  
Lucky him, he was missing the delightful fun of succession hearing preparations. 

“Why am I putting up with this again?” Felix groaned in frustration- staring over the pile of books and parchment and invitations scattered over the low table. They’d been at this for hours, going over the same details and arcane laws over and over again. Felix had to defend his birthright. Insane.  
  
Ingrid sighed and looked him dead in the eye, speaking slowly as if she was explaining to a very stupid child “Because you’re not Duke yet, and your uncle is likely to make a run for the title”. 

Sylvain, laying on a sofa with his shoes off snorted, “He’s got no grounds, I’ll remind everyone. They’re just testing Dimitri.”

His best friends. Like family. He was about to kill both of them. 

“Why on earth are they challenging my succession to test the Boar king?” Felix gripped the parchment in front of him, imagining Annette’s horror that he was wasting good paper.  
  
Ingrid started on her third pastry, she’d been stress eating all afternoon, “Because half the kingdom knows about your eight year squabble and is hoping their own house will take Fraldarius’ place.”  
  
Sylvain pointed at the list of attendees for the hearing and added, “And the other half is pissed about Ashe being given Gaspard with no hearing at all and want to make sure he’s not just favoring his war buddies. I hate to say it, but they’re just dragging you through this to make a point that Dimitri can’t do whatever he wants.”  
  
Felix felt his frustration rising- Sylvain knew the laws like the back of his hand, Ingrid knew the ins and outs of every house and their preferences, it was as if they’d taken a seminar at Garreg Mach that he was too stupid or stubborn to attend. He regretted not listening or paying better attention as a youth, since apparently he was just supposed to know all of this already. The preparation and speculation and all of the politics were just about to kill him. This was so stupid. “He’s a king! That’s what kings do! They favor their friends!” 

Sylvain rolled his eyes, “I mean I know that and you know that, but court-”  
  
“Fuck court.”  
  
“Felix!” Ingrid chided. Yes, language was something they’d been working on. He had to look and sound Duke-ly whatever that meant. 

Sylvain stopped their squabble before it started, “Okay children, we’re getting off topic. Succession hearing, tomorrow. What do we think will come up?”  
  
Felix knew the answer to this one. It was the reason for this whole circus- his stupid uncle, despite running the territory into the ground in less than a year, had gotten cozy acting as Duke.  
  
“My cousin has a minor crest of Fraldarius. My idiot uncle would like her to be heir with himself as regent. It’s stupid.”  
  
“Okay we practiced this Felix. Why is that not legitimate?” Sylvain asked in his best impression of the professor. If the professor was smarmy and smug in their intelligence.  
  
“Saints Sylvain, I’m not an idiot. Every single clause of succession I outrank her. On all counts. Minor crest, offshoot line, she’s a girl, and she’s _ten._ ” 

“What else are they going to bring up?” Ingrid cut in. Felix had ranted about his uncle quite enough already but all the other claims and causes were simply speculation at this point. Speculation he had to be prepared for. 

“I don’t know.” He didn’t want to do this anymore. He hated this stupid room and this stupid prep and the old stupid men who had once been allies and admirers of his father but were ready to pounce on his son. Some famed Faerghus loyalty. 

“Think.” 

“I’m a kind of shitty leader. My battalion and I sort of…” Felix wasn’t one for self depreciation but even he knew he lacked the natural charisma of most of his friends.  
  
“You lead fine. You’re a little informal but you’ve managed so far.” Sylvain stopped him from critiquing himself too much. They’d discussed this too- he was quick to point out flaws, even his own. That wouldn’t do, he couldn’t give court openings to go in for the kill. 

Ingrid agreed, “Half of leading is deciding what you’re bad at and sending the right people to do it instead. You’ll be fine.”  
  
The room settled into the dull din of work again, Sylvain and Ingrid reviewing the list of attendees for tomorrow and deciding who they were likely to support or what they might try to raise to weaken Felix’s claim to his own home.  
  
“Are we done?” Felix shot out at the two idiots. He hated studying back in school- theory was just not compatible with who he was. This was stupid, it was just delaying him actually _ruling_. 

“Felix if you don’t mind me asking… There is one thing we haven’t talked about.” There was a sick look on Sylvain’s face, the look he got right before he asked something wholly inappropriate just to throw everyone off their balance.  
  
Ingrid’s face tightened and she warned, “Sylvain…”  
  
Sylvain continued, “There’s no concern for a morality clause is there?” 

“That’s rich coming from you.” Felix shot back. Morality clause. Stupid thought. Was he a shining beacon of Faerghus tradition? No of course not. But did he break any of the major rules? Pray to the goddess, defend the crown, never show cowardice. He’d served in the army for the last five years, that was basically his weekly schedule. That wasn’t it anyway, it was Sylvain and because it was Sylvain by _morality_ he meant _sex_ .  
  
Sylvain laughed, “There are no other options than me in Gautier. Fraldarius is ripe with potential heirs as we’ve discussed. Your grandparents really…” 

“Shut up.” 

“Created a lot of crested lines in Fraldarius was all I was going to say!” He smiled innocently. Bastard. “Anyway, you didn’t answer the question.” Sylvain sing-songed. As if he didn’t know the answer. Didn’t tease him about it mercilessly.  
  
“No, there’s no need for a morality clause.” Felix grumbled, feeling himself blush despite himself. 

“He’s not married.” Ingrid offered simply, changing the topic. 

Felix felt his jaw clench with genuine anger. Really? He certainly wanted to be married it was everyone _else_ that was making that difficult, “That’s not my fault that’s-”

“I’m just saying,” Ingrid put her hands up defensively, “That’s something else people might try to get you on, or leverage into an alliance at worst. You’re not technically engaged yet so technically you are available.”

Felix snorted, “We are formally courting now. And you know we’ve had the talk, so we _are_ -” 

Sylvain cut back in, “Yeah but court doesn’t know that. And shouldn’t. Morality Felix, it’s not just about sex. It’s about your character.”  
  
“And you’re saying my character is shit?” It was, obviously. Clearly. They wanted someone like his father, gallant and formal. Not whatever he was. 

“I mean I’m not, not saying that. I know it’s not, you’re a good guy, but you’re a little prickly.” 

“Why isn’t Annette here anyway? She balances you out, you’re so much more polite with her around.” Ingrid asked.  
  
“I thought court didn’t care about Annette.” Felix rose from his seat and walked over to the window. He was about ten seconds away from screaming or challenging someone to a duel just to get this rage out. He’d need to train after this. At least ten training dummies were about to be ruined. At least. Crest dependent.  
  
Annette wasn’t here because she was in Dominic with her family. Annette wasn’t here because now they were courting so they couldn’t be alone without a chaperone, and there was none available to escort her because, surprise surprise, her father was too busy. He’d be at the hearing, but couldn’t take three days to escort his daughter to her future husband’s succession hearing. 

Her mother hated to travel so Annette wouldn’t ask her. Annette, who was perfectly capable of traveling herself, now couldn’t because she was courting. People broke the rules of courtship all the time but everyone in the Kingdom was studying their every move, looking for something to critique. 

In his fantasies from the time he was young, Felix imagined running away. He’d become a mercenary, make a living with his sword and have no one care about his title or his behavior.  
  
Annette didn’t fit into that fantasy so well, so he’d adapted it lately.  
  
They’d do it together. Leave Faerghus and society in one fell swoop. Annette had always thought about becoming a teacher at the school of sorcery so there was no reason she couldn’t do that at Garreg Mach. Knighthood, even under the professor, didn’t appeal, far too rigid. He could be a swords professor instead. Hell, if Jeritza had managed to be the Death Knight under Rhea’s nose, being a professor had to be a pretty lax gig. They’d get married with no one but their friends and Annette’s mom present with no _courtship_ _period_.  
  
“Felix, do you want to be a Duke?” Ingrid’s voice pulled him out of his fantasy.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Do you _want_ to be Duke?”  
  
Felix stayed silent for a moment. “That’s stupid.” 

Sylvain picked up on whatever Ingrid was implying, “That’s brilliant Ingrid. Hey Felix, why do you want to be Duke?”  
  
“Because my uncle is running the territory into the ground and I can run it better because despite my resistance to it, my father taught me how. Because I’m sick of all of these people who are too obsessed with rules and tradition to do the right thing and just fix things. Because The Boar needs someone who knows him well enough to challenge him and I’ve been groomed for that since before I was heir. That’s a stupid question. I _don’t_ want to be Duke but I’m going to do it anyway.”  
  
That was really the story of his life wasn’t it. Even if he didn’t want to, he would.  
  
Ingrid and Sylvain grinned at him, pride in both of their faces. Sylvain forced him into a hug, which would have felt nice if it were a little less bone crushing.  
  
Annette was wrong. He wasn’t alone. He had people around to annoy him at every turn. He’d never be alone again. 

* * *

Annette was late. She was intended to arrive for her first official visit to Fraldarius that morning but the sun was setting and she still wasn’t there. Her last letter had implied that her mother was a shockingly bad horsewoman, necessitating a carriage, and that he shouldn’t be concerned or insulted by any lateness. 

_Don’t come running and searching for me Felix. You’ll simply embarrass my mother even worse than you already do. And please don’t tell her you want to marry me immediately, propriety be damned, she’ll faint. Again._  
  
Felix considered ignoring her demand but he’d have to move half a dozen meetings that were scheduled for today, no, patience it was. He just hoped they would make it by mealtime.  
  
In his first week as a Duke he relished the brief moments where he was alone. A quiet dinner was a reprieve from the constant demands for attention. He’d been surrounded by people for the past six years, his solitude felt well earned.  
  
The novelty wore off quickly. Now he could feel the absence of others. Of his father, trying to make conversion and teach life lessons, soldiering through Felix’s pointed disinterest in whatever he had to say. Of his friends and companions, filling the space with chatter and energy. Of Annette whose presence calmed him and grounded him and made him happier than he felt in any other circumstance. 

He’d refused to move into his father’s old rooms. He couldn’t stand being alone in them, staring up at portraits of every other Duke and their wives and children. The prized painting of the four of them hung directly across from the bed for goddesses sake- his father young and fresh off a military campaign with a new scar on his chin that he’d eventually grow a patchy goatee to cover, Glenn’s hair painted neater than it ever was in real life, his mother who he couldn’t even remember smiling softly while holding a toddler that he knew was supposed to be him but couldn’t recognize because the look on his face was so open and happy- the painting was meant to show a powerful and happy family. It haunted him. 

  
He would deal with all of it when Annette came. His current room was good enough, and just for him. He could deal with the transition later when he needed more space.   
  
There was already enough change. He’d inherited his title, Duke Felix Hugo Fraldarius, and gone right to work repairing the damage of five years of holding the front line in a war and the incompetent management of his uncle. 

He and Annette had courted officially for two months. Not that they’d seen each other for longer than a few days in that time. But the clock was ticking closer and closer to _suspiciously_ short courtship instead of _scandalously_ short. Everyone could handle suspicion, it would likely follow the Dominics for a generation even without a high profile marriage. There were few minor snipes at Felix’s succession hearing about the match, but thankfully Dimitri shut that line of questioning down. 

_I will hear no further insinuations that such an important mage in the Kingdom army is anything less than fully loyal to the Kingdom. I will consider any such implications to be insults to my own ability to evaluate allies. That is my final word on this matter._

It didn’t stop implications that Dominic supported the empire rather _quickly_ and _without a fight, don’t you think_ but direct attacks on Annette thankfully stopped.

It was frustrating. There was little Felix could do to protect her right now, if anything tying her to him made people notice more.   
  
As if Annette could control her uncle. As if everyone hadn’t had to make hard choices.  
  
Hell, he was making hard choices right now. Waiting patiently for Annette’s mother rather than shirking his duty and rushing out the door, grabbing a horse, and going straight there. Maybe even eloping. He’d inherited now, what was the worst that could happen if they were already wedded and bedded?  
  
Saints, he was thinking like Sylvain. 

It was almost funny. There had been jokes made about Felix’s _urgency_ since the first time he mentioned that he hated courtship.  
  
It wasn't like that.  
  
Okay, a little. He was still human and Annette was gorgeous, of course it was enticing. But not nearly as much as everyone thought.  
  
Not that he’d correct anyone. The world was free to assume that he was just endlessly horny and impatient to rush into bed.  
  
That was less embarrassing than the truth.  
  
Felix Fraldarius, lone wolf, the man who threw a minor fit at Garreg Mach the first time the professor had assigned him a battalion. Felix _I work alone_ Fraldarius was lonely. 

There was a maid in Fraldarius with red hair and every time Felix spotted her out of the corner of his eye his heart tightened in his chest until he remembered that _his_ redhead was in Dominic or Fhirdiad and anywhere but there because even though they were in agreement that they’d like to be married as soon as possible the world needed ten layers of pretense.  
  
Fucking pretense.  
  
Pretense is why he stood patiently and touchlessly greeted Annette and her mother when they arrived eight hours late rather than running down the stairs and gathering her up in his arms and kissing her in front of everyone. 

That night Felix had his first dinner with company in weeks and palpably felt relief at Annette’s presence. She’d spilled wine almost as soon as she sat down and Felix found the whole affair so endearing that he forgot to be cold. He was smiling, even Lady Dominic pointed out that she was happy to see him less intense and dour than at their last meeting. “You must be more comfortable at home, you’re smiling Your Grace.” If only she knew. But dinner with the Dominic women had been fun. A new experience for Felix in Fraldarius. 

Lady Dominic, as it turned out, despite her nervous disposition was a delightfully odd woman. Her winding thought patterns were occasionally difficult to follow but Felix could appreciate the clear bits of Annette in her. Far less brave than her daughter, but the warmth was the same. 

Lady Dominic, bless her, had excused herself shortly after a late night tea in her appointed sitting room. She gave Felix one intense stare and broke it right as Felix started to feel ashamed. She laughed saying, “Don’t elope while I’m asleep my dears.”  
  
The moment the door closed Felix pounced. He wrapped his arms around Annette and kissed her trying to convey to her just how much he missed her. It was like entering a warm room in the winter, whatever relief he’d felt at her presence was nothing compared to having her in his arms again. Annette was no less eager, hands lacing through his hair, down the little bit of neck that his collar left exposed, tugging at the clasps on his jacket.  
  
“I missed you so much, I thought of just leaving my mother halfway from Fhirdiad and riding ahead from there.” She whispered.   
  
Felix smiled, “We’re of a mind. I thought of clearing my schedule and riding out to escort you from Fhirdiad myself when I got your letter.”  
  
Annette kissed him again, quickly this time, “We won’t have to do this for much longer Felix.” 

“If we eloped…”  
  
Annette pushed him off playfully “My mother specifically just told us not to elope.”  
  
“She must be a mind reader, I was thinking about that today. I’ve inherited, what’s the worst that could happen?”  
  
Annette squealed, “That’s awful! Firstly someone could annul the marriage.” 

He’d spent too much time alone, he’d already had this argument with himself so he knew the counter to _that_ possibility was, “Not if it’s consummated.”

Felix half regretted the words nearly as soon as he said them. Annette, thankfully used to his indelicate word choice, and perhaps out of a similar eagerness, laughed. Both of them bright red and equally shocked into awkwardness they froze. He needed her closer, if they were going to be embarrassed they might as well do something to be embarrassed about. Felix pulled Annette into his lap as she considered the possibility.  
  
“That’s true I guess. I think my poor mother would die of shame though, so best we do things by the book.” 

“I’m sick of doing things by the book. I just… um… I’m not as good when you’re not around. I miss you too much and it distracts me and I’m only half decent at this whole Duke business and you’ll be great at it.” He didn’t have to look at her like this, he could just play with her hair and the buttons on her dress which he knew from experience were mostly decorative but he couldn’t help touching.  
  
Annette let him nervously work out his energy, well used to it, “I want to get married, and soon. But marriage isn’t just about us, you know. It’s symbolic of a new life starting together. Our friends and my family should be there. That takes time.”  
  
“I know, at least three months. My steward told me it was bad luck to pre-plan a wedding and so he won’t do _anything_ even though I can tell him the exact month we’ve already discussed. And we have to court for at least three months before engagement because Saint Cethlean always had true loves meet three times before falling in love so apparently _that_ makes it the proper length of time even though we’ve fought a war together and I’m in love with you and... I just want you. It’s killing me, the pointless waiting. We’ve already agreed, we should just do the rest of it.” 

Annette blushed, hissing, “Felix! My mother is literally in the next room.”  
  
That wasn’t a no.  
  
“I didn’t mean it like that! I mean… You know that’s not my only concern.”  
  
“Concern?” She raised an eyebrow. 

Her presence was making him honest. “I don’t like being here without you. I don’t like being anywhere without you.”  
  
Annette wrapped her arms around him, kissing his forehead gently. The closeness wasn’t helping his case.  
  
“I miss you too you know. I love my family and I’m doing some pretty interesting work with the school of sorcery but... It feels like I’m trying to squeeze into a dress from my childhood that doesn’t quite fit anymore. I know there’s more ahead of me and I’m just delaying the inevitable. But we’re close Felix. We have the rest of our lives to be married. We should do things the right way.” 

Felix frowned, “We’ve been doing things the _right way_ for months. I’m impatient.”  
  
Annette smiled, “I know. Mercie teased me for the same. She said some fairly scandalous things too…”  
  
“Mercedes said something scandalous?” Perish the thought.  
  
Annette nodded, a little twinkle in her eye. “You have to keep it a secret though.” 

“Who would I tell? My agriculture advisor?”  
  
“I hear they’re terrible gossips” 

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Felix’s stomach tightened with excitement. Soon enough she’d be in these stupid meetings day in and day out with him. They’d be more tolerable with her there.  
  
Annette turned back to her mother’s door, taking a deep breath the same way she did before she sang for him back in her tent- just for them, too quiet for anyone else to hear.  
  
“Mercie and I had tea and I was complaining about how now that we are courting we’re never alone anymore even though we slept together almost every night for the last three months of the war and if that’s what they’re trying to prevent, well, too late.”  
  
“That’s not what people mean by sleeping together and you know it.”  
  
Annette laughed again, “Oh I know I just... “ She blushed deeper, “Mercedes said _if you act chaste nobody suspects anything. Just go to services the next morning with a smile on your face, nobody will wonder where you were the night before._ ”  
  
Felix stared at her for a long moment as realization dawned.  
  
“ _Mercedes_ said that?” Saints, that sounded like it was from experience. Who? When?  
  
Annette giggled, “I told her we couldn’t risk it.” 

“Right. Probably not.”  
  
“ _Definitely_ not Felix! Not that I don’t… I mean you know that I… That we…” Annette buried her face in her hands, too embarrassed to continue speaking.  
  
They almost had, a few times. Tension ran high on a battlefield, every moment filled with rightful uncertainty. They slept beside each other on marches, it was chaste. Simple touches, gentle kisses, the relief of hearing someone who you care about breathe through their sleep. Knowing that you’re fighting to hear them breathe again. But they always stopped before anything happened. Too risky. They didn’t need another problem to solve. Even if they burned for each other, even if it would absolutely feel so right and perfect. They couldn’t, sleeping was pushing it enough already.  
  
They tried to be subtle about their sleeping arrangements, but there were few secrets in an army. Thankfully, tents were not known for their ability to muffle noise so they had hundreds of witnesses to their chastity. It came up at his succession hearing, just how little went on in Annette’s tent. Horrifying stuff really, Sylvain would tease him about it until they were 80. Gilbert- no, Gustave now, would never look him in the eye again. Probably for the best. 

He would rather deal with a little scandal than admit the truth of why. He’d refused when asked directly. The truth was Annette was a mediocre healer at best but Felix was too embarrassed to let anyone else fix him up. Months after Gronder and he _still_ couldn’t take any faith magic without tears welling up in his eyes. Annette didn’t judge him for it. 

  
He wondered if they could risk it now? He missed sleeping beside her, as fitful as she was, he truly missed waking in the middle of the night from some nightmare and knowing she was right there.  
  
“Hey Annette, um… I was um…” his stomach turned with anxiety and he felt himself flush. “Have you written any new songs since returning to Dominic?”  
  
Close, so close. He couldn’t work up the nerve. Two months of separation made him lose his edge with her. 

Annette smiled widely, her eyes full of mischief, “Well wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“I actually would.” He kissed the top of her head for good measure.  
  
“Oookay. But you have to promise not to make fun of me _and_ to show me the bakery you wrote about.” She adjusted her position on the couch, pulling off her shoes and folding her legs up so her feet were in his lap, she leaned against the arm, settling back into the couch.   
  
He took a breath at the image, Annette was comfortable like this. Comfortable here, in his home. Their home- soon.  
  
“I never make fun of you, you know that.” He said with pure honesty. Never, ever. 

Annette shook her head, “And…?”  
  
“And I already made arrangements with the baker for you to visit tomorrow.” 

“So there’s one song I have called drippy ink _…”_ It sounded perfect to him. 

They stayed up far too late, Annette sang until the fire burned low and each time she protested they should go to bed Felix would delay her with more firewood, another kiss, another question.  
  
Annette asked him to do things correctly. He hated every second of it, but even in the first twelve hours of her visit it became increasingly clear why he wanted to rush. Having her this close, but not having her completely or permanently was killing him.  
  
At the same time, her mere presence made him happier, more content, less alone. Loneliness had never bothered Felix before Annette. He’d suffer through the next four months if it made her happy. He’d done far worse for far less. 

* * *

Felix didn’t often envy Sylvain, but watching him lounge on the floor of Felix’s office, getting increasingly drunk in the middle of the afternoon, Felix wondered for just a moment what it was like to truly not give a shit about anything. To just live and do as he pleased. 

“And so my mother, you know her, she’s awful in general, but she says, _You know, I guess if she’s refusing to get married agriculture might be a suitable profession. She’s always preferred dirt to her own station._ As if Ingrid’s not a literal knight!” 

“I think it’s in reference to the scientists she’s hiring to fix Galetea?” 

“No I know Felix but the point! The point is! I don’t remember the point anymore. Oh man, I can’t wait to see my mother at your wedding. She’s so self conscious about her height and Annette’s the shortest woman in Fodlan and will out-rank her, technically. I love it, she’s going to _hate_ her.”  
  
“Great. Well her height is a new reason for someone to hate her, so I guess I should accept that for it’s novelty.” Felix deadpanned.  
  
The letters had started once their formal engagement was announced. Three months of courtship was a bit of a cause for a concern, was there a _reason_ for a hasty engagement? As if being in love wasn’t a good enough reason for these fools.  
  
The complaints continued with each _concerned_ letter. Her house is weak and defected to the Empire! Didn’t you know that Duke Fradalrius? You should know that Your Grace! Her father abandoned the kingdom for several years! She’s merely the daughter of a knight, wouldn’t you prefer someone more suitable? 

Felix was beyond sick of it.  
  
The refusals when wedding invitations went out were double edged. Frankly, the more “nos” the better in his book, but every last refusal was technically some kind of insult.  
  
Felix had long stopped caring about presumed insults. Politics in general. He’d let Annette sort it out, everyone loved her once they met her. They’d have to respect her once she was a Duchess and outranked all of them anyway.  
  
But once again he found himself wishing he could speed up time. Skip the worst bits, the bits that didn’t matter. 

Sylvain was still prattling on.  
  
“Oh so my troops ratted out my reason skill to my dad too, assholes. Sure, I can cast a half decent fire spell,” An understatement, Sylvain was shockingly good with magic per Annette’s complaints, “and all of a sudden my father is all _Sylvain Sreng military is terrible against magical attacks! You should be working on your reason in addition to the million other drills._ Ugh. Wait, what were we talking about?”  
  
“I asked you why you insisted on meeting with me today, you pulled out a bottle of wine, and while you started by saying some frankly overly sincere things about our friendship you lost the point twenty minutes ago.” 

Sylvain turned and looked up at him, taking another long swig of wine. Whatever half formed thought that was long lost was apparently in the bottle and jumped back up to Sylvain’s brain.  
  
“Oh! Your letter. This is about your letter. I wanted to… I need to talk to you in person about it.” 

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose, “I write you several letters a week, our territories are closely allied. You’ll have to be more specific.” 

“Your letter about your wedding! Yes, right. I remember now. You know I can’t technically be your first man right?” 

Felix’s face fell for a brief moment before he steeled it back into stoicism. Had he done something wrong? Why would Sylvain say no?  
  
“I don’t want a first man at all, the tradition is disgusting. But why can’t you do it?” 

Sylvain picked himself off the floor and perched onto the edge of Felix’s desk, clumsily straightening a stack of papers, busy work to keep him focused, “I’m not married Fe- Technically a first man has to be married for it to be valid.”  
  
Felix snorted. Even Sylvain was caught up in rules now? Insane. Who was he supposed to ask then? He had no married friends. No brother. Some sick people asked their fathers to be their first man, a truly vile thought given that the primary responsibility of the position.  
  
“Do it anyway. I don’t care.” He said as calmly as he could muster. Trying not to sound as hurt as he was. 

Sylvain took another long swig. Buying time maybe? Coming up with a better rejection?  
  
This was the one thing he thought would be easy in this whole process. Sylvain was his best friend, wasn’t he? 

“I need it to be you Sylvain. I reject your rejection. No one is going to say you can’t… verify.”  
  
Sylvain smiled widely, turning his gaze preditorially at Felix. His lips dyed clownishly purple with wine.  
  
“No one is going to say I can’t verify what? Come on, if you’re going to ask and make an exception, be brave enough to justify your point Your Grace. Faerghus law can be flexible, but only to those who can make it work for them.” Sylvain goaded, face lighting up in a way that made Felix hate him sometimes. He relished in the embarrassment of others. Was he trying to piss him off, make him ask someone else?  
  
“Sylvain no one in all of Fodlan is going to argue that you can’t successfully verify a consummation.” Felix argued, feeling himself blush despite himself.  
  
“There you go! Fine, if I have to I will take on the great honor of being your first man. But I’m not happy about it. It’s really pretty gross when you think about it.” He made a sour face to punctuate his point, but slid back into his easy smile. 

“You’re not… in the room or anything. People haven’t done that in decades.” 

“You sure? I could give you pointers! If you’re getting me as a First Man you will absolutely be getting _me_ as a first man. You signed up for this you know!” Sylvain’s mood had lifted considerably. Shit, had he played Sylvain’s game too easily? 

“Sylvain you will sit outside and preferably sing loudly to yourself or fall asleep instantly. If you attempt to enter I will kill you outright. As will Annette. Her condition is you be the quietest you’ve ever been in your entire life. Am I clear?” Felix explained as calmly as he could.  
  
“If I do that how can I verify?” Sylvain laughed. Yes, he was definitely enjoying this. There was only one thing to do in this case, and that was shock the shocker.  
  
“Sylvain is there, in your apparent expertise, even a tiny chance that Annette and I will not consummate our marriage the very minute we’re permitted to?”  
  
Sylvain’s jaw dropped and he was silent for one blessed moment. Then he burst out laughing, fitting in, “No! Not a chance. Oh man. Felix. Stop saying consummate, it’s killing me. Just. I know you want to fuck and get it out of your system. Can’t blame you. Your self control is admirable because we can _all_ see how desperate you are. It’s honestly frustrating to _me_ at this point. No man has ever rushed into marriage as quickly as you in the history of Fodlan- I mean, it’s painful to watch. Painful. I mean not as painful as _you_ are probably feeling with your blue-”  
  
“That’s enough. You’ve agreed to be my first man and I appreciate that. Thank you. The rest is not needed.” Felix barked harshly, cutting him off. 

  
He knew this would be part of the whole thing, asking Sylvain to be his First Man would definitely not be the end of these jokes or snide comments. They’d gotten worse as of late.  
  
“And not that you deserve the information, but I want to make it clear- I am not you, and sex is not my sole reason for marriage Sylvain. Far from it.”  
  
“Well I’d hope so! I’m worried about you all holed up in this ginormous territory with no one around. Annette is good for you, she’ll be good for Fraldarius too. We all can see that. ” Felix smiled as he shared what could amount to a nice moment with his best friend. Sylvain ruined the moment almost immediately, continuing his thought.  
  
“But also, sex is great. You’re going to love it kid”  
  
“Get out of my office.” 

* * *

The closer his wedding crept, the worse the ache felt. They were seeing each other more often, preparations a constant burden on both of their schedules. 

Annette returned to Fraldarius two weeks before the wedding, ostensibly to prepare for her new life as a Duchess. As if she hadn’t been doing that for the past five months. But this time she was scheduled to meet with his household formally, to be introduced to his advisors, to walk her through the work of managing a territory which she half understood but had never actually trained for the way he had.  
  
Despite her inexperience, she was excelling. As he knew she would. Annette would listen with her serious face on, the one that did look a bit childish with her furrowed brows and general _Annette_ levity. Yet, just when the advisor or minister tried to talk down to her she would ask such an incredible, pointed question that they nearly fell over from shock. She’d managed to simultaneously fluster and impress every single one of his advisors.  
  
No one would underestimate Annette in Fradalrius, that was for damn sure.  
  
After a particularly endless meeting with his financial advisor who spent the greater part of an hour fuming because Annette had corrected his sums, Felix was so overcome with pride that he kissed her in front of her chaperone. She was so good at this, so smart, and she didn’t even know what she was doing yet. How could he not kiss her? Competence was always Felix’s favorite quality in a person. 

Thankfully, Mercedes was chaperoning this time around. Absent minded, permissive, forgiving Mercedes who could easily pretend that she _simply didn’t know_ because _Empire nobles didn’t do such things_ , not that she’d know about that anyway. Mercedes who burst out laughing when Annette pushed him off of her, embarrassed.  
  
Mercedes who had some kind of lover behind the scenes when she was not just unmarried, but not even courting and it was driving Felix insane because she had sworn Annette to secrecy. He didn’t even care, it was her business. He was simply curious. And maybe a little jealous. What was it like, to have true privacy? 

That evening they adjourned to the Duke’s rooms. Which was far less fun than it sounded, they were to oversee the unpacking of Annette’s wardrobe. Riveting stuff really. Felix didn’t technically have to be present but he couldn’t help himself by leaving her alone. 

“Is this you Felix?” Mercedes asked, pointing at a random portrait hung on the wall of the sitting room.  
  
“No. My great great grandfather I think?” He wasn’t sure honestly. Major crest, based on the face and coloring. Painted solo, meaning unmarried. Not his grandfather’s grandfather then. He was supposed to know his ancestry but he didn’t truly care enough to tell the hundreds of identical faces apart. Glenn always knew who everyone was, he liked that sort of stuff. History.  
  
“I always thought you had a strong resemblance to your father but… You truly wear your heritage on your face, don’t you Felix?” 

Mercedes' comment hit Felix like a punch. His own face. His father’s face. Glenn’s face. He turned, staring up at the portrait, “I hate them. All of them. Why record the same thing over and over for hundreds of years?” 

Annette frowned but stayed silent, continuing the work of counting shoes or whatever she was doing over in the corner, half buried in her trunk. 

“That’s a shame, it’s nice to have so much family history preserved. There’s such a strong legacy here, that’s impressive.” Mercedes smiled with the sad little look she got on her face when she spoke about her brother.  
  
“It’s not. They’re all dead. Half of them jumped in front of swords for king and country and no one cares because we’re all so interchangeable aren’t we?” The words burned like acid on his tongue as he said them.  
  
Mercedes stared at him for a long moment and straightened her dress, walking into the bedchamber. “I’m going to check that they dusted the wardrobe so Annette doesn’t get distracted by the mess. I’ll be back in a moment.” A poor excuse, but Felix wouldn’t stop her. Damn Mercedes. She had no legacy but at least she had a family left. Who was she to tell him what was _impressive_ or not? Impressive? Impressive was surviving, it was living.  
  
“Are you okay?” A soft voice rang out. Annette hadn’t yet left the floor, her hands still busy with the inventory of her own wardrobe. The world hadn’t stopped at his outburst. Annette was ready to let it slide, if he wanted to.  
  
He didn’t really want to. 

  
“No. I haven’t been in here in nearly four months and it’s as awful as I remembered.” 

“What’s awful Felix?”  
  
“This room. The portraits. They put my father’s life into boxes before I arrived but kept the portraits and I can’t stand them.”  
  
A rush of a thousand things worse than what he was saying came over him, clouding his head and his eyes. He swallowed thickly, and balled his fist so his nails dug into the meat of his palm, staring up at the ceiling to keep tears out of his eyes.  
  
Awful. Awful stuff. 

“So get rid of them Felix.”  
  
Felix cocked his head, “Get _rid_ of them?” He repeated her words. 

“I mean… no don’t throw them away but if you think they’re terrible just put them in storage or something. You don’t have to keep them here you know.” 

That was simple. An efficient solution. He should have loved it, he favored things like that.  
  
It didn’t feel right though. Felix swallowed again, not even noticing when Annette walked over and took his hand, bringing it up gently to her lips. 

“I know you haven’t moved in here yet Felix. Do you not want to?” Annette kept the contact, rubbing small circles with her thumb. Comforting. 

Felix knew, despite outward appearances, that he could feel emotions quite deeply if he let himself. He’d spent the past year not letting himself feel much at all. But Annette gave him an opening, a small question.  
  
Not Felix, are you weak? Is taking your father's place and your brother’s place in one fell swoop hard on you?  
  
A simple question. Did he want to move into the Duke’s quarters?  
  
“I don’t know.” He couldn’t recognize the sound of his own voice, strained with the pent up mourning and loss he refused to acknowledge for so long.  
  
“That’s okay. You don’t need to. We can move into your current room and decide later. Or not. It’s okay Felix.” 

Annette smiled softly at him and began to hum a song he vaguely recognized- one of hers. He couldn’t place it at first but realized when it made him feel worse. Oh, it was her healing song. She was rubbing small circles on his back, pulling him down to the floor with her. 

“Don’t baby me.” Felix retorted, not stopping her movements, not leaving the embrace.  
  
“I’m not, don’t pick a fight because anger is easier.”  
  
She really did know him so well. 

_Just because you’re not complaining doesn’t mean nothing is wrong._

“I just… um… It’s hard. It’s so much harder than it should be. I didn’t even like the man.” 

Annette hummed, letting him continue.  
  
“I hated him most of the time but… He was my father and now he’s dead and there’s nothing good about that.”  
  
“No. There is nothing good about your father dying.”  
  
“He was a hero, he saved the king, we all have him to thank for beating the Empire in the end. I’m sick of it. I hate it. He was my father and he’s dead and no one stopped for five seconds to be sad about it because at least his death was a stepping stone to victory. At least it meant something.” 

“And you’re sad about it,” Annette clarified softly.  
  
“Of course I’m sad about it! I’m just… just…” And for the first time in nearly ten years, Felix let himself cry.  
  
Let himself feel lonely. Let himself feel his father’s absence and that these rooms were his and would always be his, and how did his father just manage to pick up and move into them when Felix was a baby and they hadn’t even lived in Fraldarius manor until then, just a little house closer to the village. Why hadn’t he ever asked? Was it this hard for his father too?  
  
“I wish we reconciled. I wish I apologized. He tried Annette. He tried so many times and he knew we would never understand each other and I would never forgive him for what he said after Glenn died and how he just kept going as if the world hadn’t just ended and then _I did the same thing_ . I’m no better.”  
  
Annette kissed the top of his head softly.  
  
“That’s okay. You’re mourning now.” 

Annette’s truth landed softly over him. She thought it was okay, Annette who was well versed and committed to propriety and knew him better than anyone else. She said he could mourn his father, even if they hated each other. Even if-

“He wouldn’t have wanted me to, that’s the worst part I think.” The tears kept coming, hot and uncontrollable. He was beyond the point of feeling embarrassed, just overwhelmingly sad. How was he still this sad?  
  
“I know, but you were never going to do what he wanted you to Felix. I think he understood that.”  
  
After a long moment Felix felt himself settle into peace, rubbing his face free of his catharsis. A morose calmness fell over his body. Done crying, tears locked up for another decade. He cleared his throat, considering her words. What did his father want for him?  
  
“I’m doing exactly as he wished. I’m inheriting his title and working with The Boar King. Ugh, even worse, you know he really liked you? He knew I had a crush on you even back at the academy because he was so damn observant and Sylvain has a big mouth, and he’d make jokes about it whenever I got a letter from you. He got everything he ever wanted out of me, that bastard.” Annette laughed lightly at his complaint, stroking his hair.  
  
“I’m sorry to disappoint. But I’m not going to abandon our marriage as one last insult to your father. Even if it would make you feel better.” 

Felix huffed out a small laugh. “It wouldn’t. It really wouldn’t Annette. I can’t stand it here, you make it tolerable.”  
  
“I’m glad you find me tolerable Felix.” Annette smiled, poking him in the side.

Felix felt his mood lift with her joke. She’d twist his words to make him jump, he’d do it right back. He could do it with her. Start over with her. Make something new and whole again. 

“I’m done being alone, I’ll tolerate you forever.” 

* * *

Six months of work, and waiting, and bullshit ended with him half asleep, buck naked, arms wrapped around Annette who was blessedly too exhausted to find her night clothes.  
  
Annette who was now his wife. Annette who was here to stay, permanently.  
  
Annette who squirmed and shivered under him and made noises that were even better than her singing. _Saints_ he was starting to understand why everyone assumed they were rushing to be married for this. And they weren’t even good at it yet. With practice? When things were a little more familiar and he wasn’t fumbling and failing to manage both of them? When Annette was a little less embarrassed and believed him when he assured her that what she was doing was in fact very good bordering on perfect and holy? 

He was starting to regret inviting his friends to breakfast the next morning. 

Annette had made the Duke’s quarters her own. New bedding was customary for a married couple, but she went rogue and chose something _not_ in Fraldarius teal but a more subdued navy. She oversaw the staff removal of the portraits, all stacked in storage, their fate to be decided another day. She’d taken over the writing desk and half of the shelves, her books and inks and magical tomes scattered around neatly from just the three days she’d stayed there before the wedding. He could tell it would look more and more like her room over time. His too, he supposed.  
  
His family portrait was relocated to her office, Annette couldn’t accept getting rid of his allegedly adorable baby face but this way Felix wouldn’t need to stare at himself. He could live with that. 

Weddings, as it turned out, were exhausting. Thank goddess he’d only have to do it once.  
  
He’d done it, all of nonsense society required. Courtship, engagement, inheritance, done and over, cementing his status. Their status.   
  
Felix felt Annette shift away from him, rolling onto her stomach, the last bits of firelight bouncing off her skin enticingly. He’d need to explore her back better in the morning, she had so many freckles and moles and daylight would illuminate them better. 

He’d have time tomorrow. For the rest of his life. Their life. The rest of their lives for exploration and making this room their own, and sex, and ruling, and mourning, and being the subject of terrible portraits, and so much more.  
  
They had time

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Did this start out from how much I hated planning my own wedding? Maybe. Marriage is amazing, engagement sucks.


End file.
